House Call
by digitalfletch
Summary: When Sarah Jane contracts a deadly alien virus, the Doctor is her only hope. Set after "Journey's End" and the first season of SJA. In memoriam Elisabeth Sladen.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Written to celebrate the life and work of Elisabeth Sladen. She was nonpareil.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry." Captain Jack Harness looked up at the expectant faces surrounding him. As one, the hopeful expressions on all four faces crumbled. He knew just how they felt – helpless, frustrated, impotent. Wanting to rage against the terrible unfairness of it all.<p>

He returned his gaze to the woman on the couch. Her slender frame was gaunt and her face flushed with fever. A sheen of sweat shone across her brow. The alien virus that was ravaging her body continued unchecked, reducing with horrifying speed this energetic, vibrant lady to a frail, emaciated shadow of her former self. How she had managed to find the energy to even dress herself and make her way downstairs to her sitting room just now astounded him. "I'm so sorry."

She shook her head at him weakly but firmly. "Don't be," Sarah Jane Smith replied, her voice a hoarse whisper. "I knew the risks. And you…you did everything you could."

Jack's lips pursed into a thin line. For two days – ever since Sarah Jane's computer Mr. Smith had contacted them with the news that its mistress had contracted a mysterious extraterrestrial virus – he and Gwen and Ianto had researched every hypothesis, scoured every database, and tested every alien artifact in their arsenal in an all-out attempt to identify and eradicate the invisible enemy that was draining the life of their friend and colleague. They had failed. The bitterness of the defeat tasted like bile in his mouth.

Sarah reached for his hand, hoping to provide some measure of wordless comfort. She had always known it might come to this and long ago had made her peace with death. It was the price she was fully prepared to pay for the life she led, a life rich in excitement and adventure and yet filled with danger that was ever-present and real. Three days ago when the Alzarian planet-killer Mr. Smith had been tracking landed and prepared to discharge its deadly contagion, she'd known that her risky plan to neutralize it might result in her exposure to the virus. It was why she insisted that she be the one to do it, rather than any of the others.

Her plan, her responsibility. So she had gambled, as she had so many times before – only this time, she had lost. "Please tell everyone…that – I'm grateful…for all they've done."

Jack smiled and gently squeezed her hand, trying not to let the depths of his sorrow show. She wouldn't want that. After everything she was still a spitfire at heart. And as remarkable, as indomitable, as ever. "I'll tell them," he promised.

Suddenly a thought struck him and he set his jaw, his blue eyes alight with possibility. "But you're not through yet, beautiful. I've got another idea." He released her hand and bolted upright, racing for the door. At the threshold he paused and stuck his head back into the room. He threw her a rakish grin. "Don't go anywhere, ya hear?"

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do." Dr. Martha Jones removed the stethoscope from around her neck and looked up at the expectant faces surrounding her. As one, the hopeful expressions on all five faces crumbled. "I'm so sorry."<p>

The frail woman in the bed shook her head slightly. "Don't be," she murmured in a voice so soft Martha could barely hear it. She'd come at once when Jack had rung through to her at UNIT, tersely explaining what had happened to their mutual friend.

Sarah sighed and let her head relax back into the pillows. It seemed her last chance was gone. Jack and his Torchwood team were insisting on running even more blood tests this afternoon, but even if they found something now it would likely be too late for her.

She was fading fast. The fever burned through her, boiling every cell in her body in an inferno of raging heat, but instead of the searing pain she expected would accompany it she felt only a bone-deep weariness that sapped the last of her strength. It was the hallucinations that were the worst. Faces looming over her, their eyes ghostly and pale. Aunt Lavinia. Mike Yates. Harry. People she'd known, people she'd been close to. People who were long dead.

And now she was dying, too.

She had often suspected she might die before her time – vaporized by a Dalek, or torn apart by a Slitheen. She'd always expected she would die alone. But it seemed the latter fate, at least, would be spared her, for which she found herself quite profoundly grateful.

She looked up at the people surrounding her. Jack – a recent friend, but a stalwart one. Clyde – all bluff and bluster on the surface, but underneath the bravado a steady and resourceful young man, good in a crisis. Dear, lovely Maria, in whom she glimpsed a brighter, keener version of her younger self. And Maria's father Alan – having come late to the party, but showing signs of being able to get his head around it all. And, of course, there was Luke.

It was Luke she worried about the most. Her son. Even after all these months it still felt strange to think of herself as a mum. She had long ago resigned herself to the fact that she would have no children of her own – ever since her travels with the Doctor had driven home the realization that she would never feel about any human man the way she felt about a certain 900 year old Time Lord with two hearts and an infuriating grin. But then, all unlooked for, came the Bane and a child grown in a vat and a bond that had developed between them as tight as any forged by the kinship of blood.

Her eyes sought Alan's where he stood near the window with both arms wrapped tightly around his inconsolable daughter.

"Luke," she scratched out in a raspy voice. "You'll take care of him, won't you?"

Alan gazed down at her sadly. It was the third time she'd asked him in as many hours. "Of course I will. I promise."

* * *

><p>Martha stood at the end of the drive, looking up at the old house. It killed her inside that she hadn't been able to help Sarah Jane. Then she remembered the tiny cell phone nestled in her inside jacket pocket. The one she always carried with her in case of the direst emergency. She reached for the instrument. Perhaps there was something she could yet do, after all.<p>

She flipped the phone open and hit the speed dial button, then tucked it between her shoulder and ear. "Doctor? Doctor, it's me."


	2. Chapter 2

Sarah groaned and licked her swollen lips. She'd woken from a nightmare, and once again her brow was clammy and her sheets soaked with sweat. She considered calling out for Alan, who had insisted on bunking down in the spare bedroom, but it was deep into the night and he deserved his rest as much as anyone. Besides, there was little he could do for her now.

The nightmare tugged at the edges of her consciousness. She didn't recall it with any clarity but it had been about the Doctor, of that she felt certain. He was in danger, he needed her and she couldn't reach him.

She swallowed a sob and eventually drifted back to sleep.

* * *

><p>This time she heard his voice in her dreams. His new voice, not the ones that she'd traveled with but the one she'd met again all these years later. He was saying something, gently but urgently, and she struggled to hear the words more clearly.<p>

_Wake up, Sarah Jane._

_Wake up._

She drifted, wanting to prolong the moment for as long as possible. She didn't dream about him as often, now, as she had in years past. But when she did the conjure of his presence was always a soothing balm to her psyche. And in these few final hours she needed that more than anything in the world.

_Sarah _–_ you must wake up._

His voice was more insistent now. And even though she didn't want the moment to end, she would do as he asked. She would always do as he asked.

* * *

><p>Sarah levered her burning eyelids open. In the dim light of her darkened bedroom, the Doctor's angular face swam into view. She bit her lip. Another hallucination. <em>No<em>.

Then she felt the cool, light touch of fingertips at her temples, and knew she was wrong. This was real. He was real.

"Doctor?" Her voice sounded thin and trembly to her own ears. "How –"

"Sssh." The fingers lifted from her skin and one was placed lightly across her lips.

With a determined movement the Doctor pushed the bedcovers back and swept her up in his arms. Her gaunt frame was feather-light in his grasp and her cheek where it lay against his chest was burning hot. The virus was raging though her body, overwhelming her immune system's desperate, futile attempts to mount a defense. He only hoped he had reached her in time.

He turned for the TARDIS with his precious bundle in his arms, only then registering the presence of four alarmed humans of varying ages crowding into the room.

"Who are you?" the dark haired, well-built man demanded, "and what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm the Doctor. I'm taking her to where she can get well," the Doctor replied shortly as he awkwardly fished in his pocket for the TARDIS key. His keen gaze swept across the three children, taking in the mixture of alarm and raw hope in their faces.

"She'll be all right," he vowed, staring intently at each one of them in turn. For a moment his expression softened as his eyes lingered on the distressed-looking tall boy. Her son, he recalled suddenly, though being otherwise occupied at the moment he didn't remember the lad's name. "I promise."

He pushed opened the TARDIS door with one shoulder and straddled the threshold. "Back in a jif."

Before any of the humans could move, the blue box wheezed, groaned, and faded from the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Sarah was floating, a beige and bluish coral landscape dancing across her vision. As her vision cleared a little she dimly recognized it as the TARDIS console room. Only this was a funny angle. She'd never seen it from this perspective before.

Then she felt the grip of strong arms around her shoulders and legs and the rub of soft fabric against her cheek, and realized she was being carried. By the Doctor. Her Doctor. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on his face as he strode purposefully through the corridors but all the motion was making her nauseous, so she shut her eyes instead.

"Sarah, I need you to stay awake."

"Mmmm," she murmured into his jacket, shaking her head slightly. It was impossible. She was too comfortable, and far too fatigued from trying to fight the fever, nausea and crushing weakness. And she was safe. She was in the Doctor's arms – he would take care of her. He always had. She leaned against his chest and began to drift away.

"Sarah Jane, stay with me – you've got to stay awake."

There was an edge to his voice that grabbed her attention, a sharp panicked note she'd never heard before, and in response she once again struggled to do as he demanded. Gritting her teeth against the tide-like pull of oblivion, Sarah forced herself to gather the fraying threads of her consciousness and tried desperately to hold on.

Mercifully they stopped a moment later. Sarah felt herself being laid down on a pallet, which immediately molded itself around her form. She pried her eyes open. She was in the TARDIS medical unit. It was easy to recognize after having been there a number of times in her younger, more impetuous days.

Off to her right the Doctor was frantically sorting though a set of drawers that reached from floor to ceiling along one side of the room. With a cry of triumph he pounced on a packet within one of the drawers and raced back to her side. He pressed a button on the side of the pallet that raised her head up to a 40-degree angle. Then he ripped the packet open with his teeth and dumped three blue discs, each about the size of a pound coin, into his open hand.

His face drew close to hers, his chocolate brown eyes burning with intensity. "Here, Sarah. I need you to take these." He pressed the three pills carefully into her palm. "They will counteract the effects of the virus. But you have to take them one by one, and chew each one at least thirty times before swallowing. Can you do that?"

She licked her parched lips and nodded. _One at a time. Chew._ The mere thought of trying to eat anything increased the nausea tenfold. She found she couldn't lift her head as the room spun around her. Choking back the bile rising in her throat, she sent a look of mute appeal in the Doctor's direction.

He nodded and slipped his left arm around her shoulders, helping her sit a little more upright. As always his cool touch soothed her, and the queasiness receded slightly. He guided her hand to her mouth and she slid one pill inside, forcing her jaws to work. Chew, chew, chew. She counted slowly to thirty, swallowed. Then the next. Repeat.

Two pills down. It was all she could manage. She didn't have the strength for more. She dropped her hand to her side, defeated. Her eyelids slid closed. _I'm sorry, Doctor._

"Sarah!"

She had nearly gone, but once again his tone roused her. It held the same sharpness as before, an intense, desperate urgency that drew her back from the edge of the precipice. She groaned and forced her eyes open to meet his electric gaze. The worry – the fear – in his eyes shocked her, lancing through her like a knife.

"Last one," he whispered, placing a finger tenderly under her chin. "For me."

It was emotional blackmail and she knew it. And she knew he knew she knew it, but she was too exhausted to remonstrate with him. Mustering the last vestiges of her strength she lifted her trembling hand to her mouth. Pill in, chew, chew, chew. Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. Swallow.

"Aaach – tastes horrible," she mumbled, sticking out her tongue in disgust.

She heard the Doctor give a strangled laugh and felt his lips press a kiss against her forehead. Then she fell into a deep dark hole and knew no more.

* * *

><p>TBC<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

She awoke in a frozen sweat, trembling. Nauseous, disoriented, and colder than she had ever been in her life, and unable to see anything through the darkness surrounding her… Where was she? For a hideous moment she felt completely vulnerable and exposed. Then all at once memory came flooding back. Oh yes, the TARDIS medical unit. The Doctor. He had come for her.

"Doctor?" she said, but it came out a croaked whisper.

A cool hand clasped hers. "I'm right here."

"Co – cold," her teeth chattered as she forced the words out.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's helping to counteract the effects of the virus. It'll pass soon. Try to get some sleep."

"You'll be here?" She couldn't help herself.

His teeth glinted in the dim light. "I'll be here. I promise."

* * *

><p>As Sarah drifted back into sleep the Doctor stood with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets, gazing down at her still face. Sarah Jane. His best friend.<p>

She'd run by his side, when he'd been young and the universe full of possibility. She'd fought beside him – for him – with the fiery, indomitable spirit that burned within her like the stars of the brightest galaxy. Right from the start the connection he felt with her – this tiny, fierce, shining human – was so vital and deep as to be almost visceral. A new experience indeed for a cerebral Time Lord.

She had been the most marvelous of companions – steadfast, loyal, effervescent and enchanting. He didn't know how he had ever found the strength to leave her behind.

He thought back to the school, Deffrey Vale, and the terrible temptation that had been placed before him. _"You can save them all. The Time Lords, reborn!"_ The very idea of it, of no longer being alone…the Krillitane had known just precisely how enticing the offer had been.

But once again Sarah had rescued him in the nick of time, as she had so often in their travels together – heedless this time not of her life but of her happiness.

She took his breath away. His Sarah Jane. Her words had given him the courage he needed.

"_No. The universe has to move forward. Pain, and loss, they define us as much as happiness or love."_

How well he knew that. How well, evidently, she knew it, too.

His earlier self hadn't surmised – hadn't paid attention to – how she had come to feel for him. That she had come to love him, not only as one friend loves another, but as a woman loves a man.

"I didn't realize," he whispered to her silently, and leaned down to press a soft kiss into her hair. "I'm so sorry."

"_Whether it's a world, or a relationship, everything has its time, and everything ends."_

Well, he thought determinedly to himself, this particular relationship wasn't going to end now. Not now. Not while he had breath in his body and two beating hearts in his chest.

Leaning forward slightly he pressed the tips of his fingers to her temples. Taking a deep breath to focus his mind, he reached out and projected his thoughts into hers, gently but firmly pushing aside the layers of fatigue clouding that bright, sparkling mind.

'_Sarah,'_ he called. _'Stay with me. I need you.'_

* * *

><p>'<em>Doctor?'<em>

'_I'm here. It's all right.'_

'_So cold…'_ Strange. She was hearing the Doctor, and he her, but she wasn't speaking aloud. Sarah roused a little, wondering.

'_I know.'_

The words, their deep sympathy and sincerity, reverberated in Sarah's brain. Then she realized – she wasn't hearing him with her ears, she was feeling him with her mind. At another time, on another day, and she would have marveled at his presence in her thoughts, at the touch of that soaring, mad, incandescent mind like a benediction. But she was so cold, and so, so tired… _'Doctor, I'm sorry.'_ Almost a ghost of a thought: _'I can't –'_

'_What do you mean? Course you can. You must!' _His fierce, almost frantic, certainty coursed through her like a power surge through an electrical line. Then the urgency subsided a little, though not the conviction. _'I can't lose my very best friend. You can do this. Remember that time on Nerva Beacon? You'd crawled into that air duct and were certain you'd be stuck forever, but you managed to get out of it – with a little help from me, of course.'_

'_Help?'_ His words struck a spark in Sarah she didn't even know was there. _'You call that help – insulting me and calling me names?'_

'_Worked, didn't it?'_

It had indeed, but she wasn't about to tell him that. But of course he was in her mind, and when she felt his mental laughter run through her like quicksilver she knew he'd read her thought anyway.

'_My Sarah Jane, you of all people can do anything in this universe that you set your mind to. Think of all the places we've been – Karn, Skaro, San Martino, Peladon– all those people you've help save. Seem to recall you've saved me a time or two, as well – remember Professor Kettlewell's robot?'_

'_Oh yes. I do. And I saved you from the Wirryn,'_ she reminded him for good measure_. 'And from Linx, and from that madman Harrison Chase's compost machine.'_ She stopped for a moment to allow her memories to coalesce, preparing to recite him the entire list.

'_See what I mean?'_ Sarah felt his affection washed over her like sunlight, warming her from within, helping anchor her fast to the wondrous universe that they shared.

'_And all those terrible monsters we faced. The Zygons, the Krynoid, the Sontarons, the Daleks – you and me together, we defeated them all. You must keep fighting, Sarah. You must.'_

'_Yes.'_ His thoughts revived her, but not as much as what lay beneath them. Not a thought, exactly, but an undercurrent of an emotion so unexpected and marvelous that she didn't even recognize it at first. Something so infinitely precious to her that when she did finally pinpoint its nature she wanted to reach out and capture it with both hands, and treasure it forever in her heart.

'_Oh, Doctor.'_

That feeling – that beautiful, indescribable feeling – was worth fighting her way back to him for.


	5. Chapter 5

When she awoke again the lights were up a little and the Doctor was still sitting beside her, cradling her hand in his. "Welcome back, Sarah Jane," he said, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.

"How…how long have I been unconscious?" she asked, her voice sounding raspy and harsh to her ears.

"By your Earth reckoning, about 40 hours."

Sarah suddenly recalled the cool touch of the Doctor's thoughts and the rich, wondrous feeling of euphoria that had enveloped her in their presence. "I felt you, Doctor, in my mind. You…you brought me back."

His lips twitched, but his eyes were alight with relief. "Ah, all I did was give you a nudge. How are you feeling?"

"Thirsty." _But alive_. She prayed fervently that this wasn't just another hallucination.

"Good. Drink some of this." He held a slim vial filled with a light amber liquid up to her parched lips.

'This' was smooth and creamy and tasted of honey, overlain with a sharper, tangy flavor of something she couldn't quite put her finger on. It slid soothingly down her throat like ice cream on a midsummer's day. "Mmm, that's lovely. What is it?"

He set the bottle down on a nearby table. "Just a little concoction of my own. Two parts safaran and allurium, one part Callyptus root, and a dash of the Elixir of Life thrown in for good measure."

She had no idea what most of that was, but the last bit sounded familiar. "The Elixir of Life? You mean…the one from Karn?"

"Yep. Won't make you immortal, I'm afraid, but it should speed up the healing process quite nicely."

Sarah gaped at him. The Elixir of Life. The one that helped the Time Lords regenerate. Possibly one of the most treasured substances in the known universe, and one of which there was precious little supply. That he would share even a drop with a human such as herself – she felt immeasurably touched, honored…and very humbled.

"Doctor – thank you," she said in a small voice.

He shook his head at her, his brown eyes warm with affection. "The world's not ready to do without you just yet, Sarah Jane Smith." He reached out and lightly brushed the hair back from her forehead. "And neither am I."

* * *

><p>Thanks to the Elixir, it wasn't long before Sarah was back – if a bit unsteadily – on her feet. Eager to return home to her son, she sat on the jumpseat in the cavernous console room watching as the Doctor set the coordinates that would take them back to Bannerman Road. It amazed her how much better he'd become at piloting the TARDIS than he'd been in her day. It made her wonder, if she were to take just a little excursion with him now, whether – no, best not to even consider such a thing. She had her own life now, on Earth, with Luke and Maria and Clyde.<p>

Instead, "How – how did you know? About me, I mean," she wondered aloud.

"Martha phoned me."

"Phoned?" She stared at him, nonplussed. Since when did the Doctor have a phone?

"Yup." When she continued to stare at him, shock writ large across her face, he added, "When she left I gave her a cell phone – intergalactic number, no collect calls please."

He said the last with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows, trying for levity, but she wasn't having it. She turned away, feeling having been rather unfairly left out. "Oh."

He was silent for a moment. Then he sighed, clearly annoyed at having to indulge her moment of all-too-human pettiness. "If I gave you one, would you use it?" he said evenly to her rigid back.

Would she? She turned to face him finally, shaking her head. "No. We can't rely on you for everything, Doctor. We're going to have to learn to take care of ourselves."

"Except when you don't."

"Don't what?"

"Take care of yourself." He fixed her with a pointed look.

_Ah_. "Well, I was doing the best I could. Sometimes things just don't quite work out the way you hope."

"I know. Hence the phone," he supplied.

"You really want me to have one," she said in surprise. "Why?"

He transferred his gaze to the floor, scuffing the toe of his trainers across the bottom of the console. "There are just some things I'm not prepared to lose."

Sarah bit her lip as her eyes pricked with unexpected tears. She got to her feet and drew him unresisting into a tight embrace. "Oh, Doctor. I'm not prepared to lose you, either."


	6. Chapter 6

The TARDIS landed in the back garden. Not, mercifully, in the drive or on the front lawn, where the sudden appearance of a 1960s style police box would raise questions even an accomplished storyteller like herself would have difficulty explaining away.

As he had done before the Doctor once again walked her out of the ship, this time into the fading light of an early spring evening.

As they stepped out onto the grass Sarah turned and placed a hand on his chest. "Thank you, Doctor. Thank you for saving me."

The answering look in his eyes was so solemn that she wondered for a moment if there was something she had missed. "Thank you for saving _me_."

She breathed a shaky laugh and shook her head as the gravity of his reply seeped into the warm air around them. "Don't be silly."

He reached out and gathered up her hands, massaging her small fingers between his long, fine ones. His touch was like silk and she had to work to suppress a shiver.

"I mean it." His eyes drilled into hers as he leaned forward, his face inches from her own. He wished he could tell her, what she meant to him. That she was like no other – gracious and kind, independent and feisty, cheeky and wise. That nothing brightened his days more than hearing the smile that always seemed to suffuse her warm, rich voice. That he saw her spirit as steel sheathed in velvet, burnished bright as a sun yet gentle as a summer breeze, that he cherished her fearless heart. That she was a treasure he carried with him through all time.

But, as ever, the words wouldn't come. They were too small, too poor, to convey all the grandeur of meaning that he sought.

Instead he gave her the only gift he could. Without warning he leaned forward and captured her lips with his.

Sarah's world exploded. At the first brush of his mouth against hers every nerve in her body sprang to life, sending a tidal wave of emotion through her so strong that she swayed with the force of it. The rush of amazement, longing, release, joy, passion, and a not insignificant amount of lust threatened to overpower her. A soft whimper escaped her as she tried desperately to wrestle some semblance of control, and with a mighty effort she wrenched her lips away from his.

He stood, comically, with both eyes closed and lips pursed.

"What are you doing?" she gasped.

His eyes opened wide and he rocked back on his heels. "I'm, ah, fairly certain I was kissing you…"

"Why?"

"Because you always wanted me to."

Sarah's heart constricted. Evidently her stray, rambling thoughts in the fog of illness had inadvertently revealed more to him than she'd ever intended to say aloud. "You don't have to, Doctor." She swallowed hard, nearly overwhelmed with emotion.

He'd once considered her his best friend. She'd seen that in his thoughts. Seen the pride, the pleasure, that her friendship had kindled in him. She'd seen, too, that he loved her. Not in a messy, primal human way, but with an intense purity – like a chemical element or a prime number – that left her astonished and awed. She never dreamed – she never dreamed he might love her so much. Even now, the thought of it filled her with incredulous joy.

"It's all right. I understand, now," she continued in a rush, trying to make it clear that she really did understand. Sort of. "Time Lords don't love the way humans do."

He nodded in agreement. "We don't reproduce biologically, like you humans. Gallifreyan children are – were – created in vitro by splicing the parental genomes. No sexual reproduction, so no need for sex. No life partners, no lovers, no biological urge to mate. But –" he stopped, suddenly hesitant.

"But what?" she whispered.

He cocked his head at her. "What if I want to, to?"

She stared up at him. It wasn't as if the idea – the aching hope, the ardent desire – had never occurred to her. But she'd been absolutely certain it had never occurred to him. In a faint voice she asked, "Do you?"

"Yes."

This time Sarah closed her eyes and leaned into the kiss, feeling a lifetime of want and need and desire detonate in the sensation of his lips against hers. Her pulse began to race, her lips parting in eager anticipation as she felt his tongue flick against them. Moaning low in her throat, she opened her mouth and stroked her tongue along his, deepening the kiss, soaking up the wonderfully alien taste and feel of him. Their tongues danced together, sending sizzling, high-voltage currents back and forth between them and lighting every cell in her body on fire. How many nights had she dreamed of the Doctor kissing her like this… Her head swam with passion until she ran out of air and pulled back gasping.

The Doctor gazed down at her, his expression stunned.

Sarah bit her lip. She hadn't meant to put her whole heart into one kiss. But the Doctor had started it, and she had instinctively given him back everything she had.

"I can't –" he started.

"I know," she shushed him by pressing her fingers against his lips. He couldn't. He couldn't stay, he couldn't be hers, not in the way she'd always wanted him to be. He belonged to the universe – and she had always known it and honestly had always loved him for it, although sometimes the truth of it still cut through her like a knife.

She leaned in and kissed him again, this time more slowly and languidly, relishing the fact that she could. "You should go, Doctor," she said reluctantly as their lips parted.

"Alright." He nodded slowly, looking as reluctant as she felt, and pulled the TARDIS key from his pocket.

Sarah watched as he slid it into the lock. "Come back soon," she entreated softly, unable to believe she was about to let him fly away from her yet one more time.

To her surprise the Doctor slipped his hands around her waist and placed a feather-light kiss in her hair. "I will."

"Don't promise something you can't make come true." She'd meant to lighten the moment, but the words came out sadder than she intended.

He stared down at her, his hold on her waist tightening imperceptibly. "I promise." The look of determination in his eyes could level whole civilizations.

At once hopeful and fearful and unable to bear the weight of his solemn gaze, Sarah leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him to her fiercely.

"You're an extraordinary being, Sarah Jane Smith," he whispered into her hair as she stood in his arms, trembling with love and loss. "My Sarah Jane."

Suddenly Luke burst into the garden at a run. "Mum!"

Sarah turned, gasping back a sob of relieved joy as her son threw himself into her arms. She embraced him tightly, closing her eyes. As she did the unmistakable sound of the TARDIS dematerialization circuits filled her ears. She whirled around – but he was gone.

"Until next time, Doctor," she whispered to the sky, her eyes filling with tears as the familiar pain of separation pierced her heart once more. But at least it wasn't goodbye. Not this time. Not while she had her memories – bright and crystal clear, like stars on a winter's night.

And not while she had her intergalactic cell phone.

She patted the small metal object in the pocket of her dressing gown, and then turned and threaded her fingers through Luke's.

FIN


End file.
